Trip to the Coffee Shop
by Lea-Masuku
Summary: Walter wants to satisfy his stomach with hot chocolate and a pastry to go with it. The catch? He decides that he must drag his best friend along with him. (Much to his annoyance, of course!)


Donald followed Walter out of the snow and into the warm coffee shop, his nose instantly flooded with the strong scent of freshly brewed coffee. He had visited coffee shops a few times before when he was an Observer, but he wasn't able to smell the scents like how he is able to now. He coughed a bit, and continued following his friend inside the slightly crowded shop, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his large black coat.

Walter looked over to his friend, noticing his discomfort. "Oh, don't worry Donald. I'm just going to get some hot chocolate and some pastries for the both of us, and then we can go back to your apartment, alright?"

Donald simply nodded, his eyes flitting about the room. As an Observer, he was able to predict what will happen with ease, but now that he is a human, everything seems a little more difficult for him. He watched as Walter peered through a glass case displaying various sorts of pastries that the shop has to offer.

After about a minute of watching him, Donald looked around the small shop. The entire room was painted in varying shades of warm brown, with one wall a dark leaf green with images of leaves and coffee beans painted on it. There were four small tables designed for two people around the center of the shop, and there were six or seven more tables against the windowed wall at the left, most of them designed for four people. About a third of the tables were occupied with people reading books, writing in journals or busy on their laptops, with a dull, almost inaudible chatter amongst them. There was a song playing softly throughout the shop; a jazzy Frank Sinatra, from the sound of it.

Finally, Walter pointed at one and dragged Donald over to see the chosen pastry. "I hope you don't mind having a raspberry scone," Walter said, his eyes glued on the scone.

"May I take your order, sir?" the saleslady said cheerfully from behind the counter, smiling brightly.

"Yes, uh, I would like to have two raspberry scones and two hot chocolates," Walter said.

"Three," Donald interrupted. "Make that three hot chocolates, please."

"Okay then!" the saleslady said as she calculated the total. "Your order will be ready in a moment, sirs."

After Donald had paid for their order (Walter had forgotten his wallet again), the two scientists herded themselves over to the nearest empty table and sat down.

"Why three, Donald?" Walter asked his friend.

"One for you, one for me, and one for my son," Donald said simply, looking around the shop warily. "He likes hot chocolate."

"You have a son?" Walter asked, confused.

Donald sighed. "Yes, Walter, I have a son. We've been over this discussion about four times now."

"Oh, yes we did," Walter said, looking slightly ashamed of himself. "I always forget about that."

"The same as how you always forget about Astrid's name," Donald muttered under his breath. They were soon called over to the counter to collect their items. Donald swiftly got up and took the beverages as Walter took the pastries. Not wanting to stay a minute longer in the shop, Donald quickly left the building and into the snowy sidewalk, with Walter following close behind.

"Have you ever tried hot chocolate before, Donald?" Walter asked as the two were getting inside Walter's station wagon, with Donald as the driver.

"No, I haven't as of late," Donald answered as he turned the keys in the ignition. "I have sampled it briefly while I was still shifting from Observer to human, so I didn't really taste very much of it."

"Did I give it to you?" Walter asked, buckling his seat belt.

The former Observer nodded as he buckled his seat belt and started driving into the freshly cleared road. "Yes you did, remember? I took one sip of it and then I almost spat it out on your lab coat because it tasted strange."

"Oh, now I remember," Walter said in amusement as he took a bite out of his scone. "You said that it tasted almost like dirt, then you bit into one of my lemon cakes and said that it tasted like someone had stuffed a whole lemon inside!"

"And I still don't like lemon cake to this day," Donald smiled.

"But would you try a raspberry scone?"

"Not while I'm driving, Walter," Donald said, vaguely gesturing towards the road in front of them.

"How about I break a piece off and give it to you so you could eat it?"

"I'm driving, Walter."

"Just a_ tiny_ piece?"

"I'm _still_ driving, Walter."

"Please, Donald?"

"Walter, how many times am I supposed to say 'I'm driving' until you could understand that I don't want to get distracted?"

"Until you eat a bit of your pastry and you let me see your reaction to your first raspberry scone," Walter said stubbornly.

Donald sighed. Sometimes Walter can be such a pain about these things. "Fine," Donald said. "But only just a—"

Before he was able to finish the thought, Walter had shoved a piece of the scone in Donald's mouth. Donald flinched at the sudden action, almost swerving into the next lane. Thankfully, he quickly recovered and he didn't end up crashing into a lamppost or another car. He quietly chewed on the piece of pastry in his mouth, not willing to tell Walter that he liked it in fear that Walter would shove yet another piece of pastry in his mouth.

"So, how does it taste?" Walter asked excitedly.

"It tastes like sour cranberries," Donald lied, hiding his smile.

"How would you even know how sour cranberries taste like?" Walter questioned, not quite believing Donald's statement.

"The same as how you would think brains would taste like: I just guessed."

Walter grumbled something under his breath, but Donald decided to ignore the comment.

He soon pulled up to his apartment building, thankfully without anymore pieces of scones being forced into his mouth and almost choking him. Donald grabbed the hot beverages as he got out of the car while Walter held onto the scones, more or less fumbling his way out and complaining about the snow. The mad scientist continued to grumble under his breath as he climbed the stairs into his friend's apartment, which just made the former Observer smile in amusement.


End file.
